The Safest Place
by AMooPoint
Summary: Regina thinks she is a seventeen year old who lives with her parents in the Enchanted Forest, but apparently she's actually in her thirties and lives with her mother in a town called Storybrooke. Her father is dead, she has a sister she never knew about, and everything is all very confusing. Also, she seems to be missing her heart.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I had to spend a few hours in the waiting room while my mom was in the ER (she's stable now) so I started typing and this happened. This is a super short story with little teeny tiny chapters for your gay pleasure. A little angsty because that's what I am right now. POUT POUT

Warnings for mentions of abuse/torture.

* * *

Nothing is familiar and everything hurts. Her head, her limbs, her heart.

Her _heart._

Regina's hand flies up under her shirt to claw at her chest. It's empty. Hollow. No soothing beat drums beneath the skin under her searching fingertips.

 _Mother._

How could she? Why would she? No. No. No. She had been good. Regina had tried so hard. She's been trying. She is good. She's always good. She always tries. Why?

Where is she? The bed she's in is large and plush and more extravagant than anything she's ever been granted in the past. She sits up upon the mattress. Around her, the walls are a sterile, pale cream, nothing like the treated stone she is used to.

The fabric in her tight grip is fine. Silk? Soft, for sure. A shirt and trousers. Matching, she finds, when she peeks under the heavy blanket draped over her legs. Surely designed for a man and not a woman. Mother would never have her in such attire. That is certain. Mother would never allow it.

Mother has her heart.

Why? Regina is good. She's been so, so good. Mother promised. Mother swore. What has she done to deserve this?

"Oh, my darling, you're awake at last."

And there she is, standing in the doorway. Dressed too in the clothes of a man with hair loose about her shoulders. But oh, there is a smile on her lips and it is warm. Warm in a way Regina has never seen and maybe she _has_ been good. Mother's eyes are alight with concern and such, such love Regina heaves a great breath to steady the emotions overwhelming her.

"Mother," she breaths, and in an instant the woman is across the floor and on the bed.

She wraps her daughter in a near suffocating embrace. Regina's first instinct is to flee and she flinches in the woman's grasp. Warnings sound off in her mind to get quiet, small, out of sight because _touching_ and _Cora_ and _tight_ never go well together and it hurts. It always, always hurts. It burns or squeezes or slams or snaps.

Except this time it doesn't.

This time Mother is all pleasant heat and happiness and she whispers a relieved, "I thought I had lost you, my precious girl," and it sounds like she actually might really mean it for the first time in her life.

And Regina is overcome, so she sobs and wraps herself tightly around her mother and squeezes as hard as she can and mumbles, "Mommy," because she's so scared and so confused and even though it's always been a sentiment worth biting punishment it's one that her lips seem desperate to form.

There's no scowl. No reprimand. No hit. Only soothing circles rubbed onto her back and gentle fingers combing through her hair. Regina doesn't know where she is, but she never wants to leave.

"You must have been terrified, my poor baby girl," Mother says, soft and so, so sweet.

"I don't understand." Regina's reluctant to leave the hold but Mother gently eases her back to rest along the pillows. She complies and lays down on the bed once more. Stares up at the woman with wide eyes. "Mother, what's happened?"

Mother's brow furrows in confusion, then twists further in deep concern. "Regina, dear, what is the last thing you remember?"

"I-" Regina begins, then falters. What is the last thing she remembers? Going to bed, she supposes. But in her own room. In her own home. In her own clothes. "I remember preparing for the night, after supper. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Before that?"

She frowns. "Well I bathed before dining. I had just gone on a ride with father and-"

"Regina," Mother says slowly, her eyes deep, intense, "how old do you think you are?"

A tight knot forms in the pit of Regina's stomach. Something very wrong is going on. Something isn't right. "I- you know how old I am, Mother. Don't be silly."

"Answer the question," Mother snaps, and Regina flinches. For the faintest of seconds Cora is back and her words are sharp and her eyes are like ice. Then she shifts, smiles, pulls the comforter up higher around Regina and fusses over tucking her in. "Please, sweetheart. I must know."

"I-I'm seventeen," Regina murmurs, still shaken.

"Seventeen?" Mother roars. And she's on her feet in an instant, eyes blazing as she races about the room. "Seventeen? It wasn't enough? They took everything else and they had to take your mind from me as well?"

Regina only half absorbs the words because her tender mother has vanished and Cora has returned full force. All she can think to focus on is getting as far away from the woman's raging as possible. Stay low. Stay small. Stay out of the way. Lessons she's been learning all of her life.

She scrambles to the far end of the mattress and stumbles off to shy into a corner of the room. It's then she passes by the mirror hung on the wall. She freezes. A woman stares back at her from the glass. Open mouthed and wide eyed. Her hair is shorter and she's a little taller than Regina, but less gangly. Less awkward. More poised. Confidence underlying, even in her shock. Elegant. Regal.

Beautiful, Regina dares to think for the very first time. She's beautiful.

The image of her mother appears behind her own reflection. "My poor girl," Mother coos, her anger apparently subsided. "We'll fix this," she promises. "We'll fix this and we'll get you back. Then," her voice hardens, cold beyond even ice, "we'll get _them_ back. We will find your heart, my love."

Regina whirls about to face the true image of her mother. "My heart. It was stolen?" Her body sighs in relief. Something was done to her. Something awful. Something unforgivable. But it hadn't been done to her by her mother.

"Yes," Mother seethes, teeth clenched. "Your heart and now your memories. Your entire life." She shakes her head, expression hard. "They won't get away with this." A firm hand comes up and moves along the older, more defined lines of Regina's cheek. It's impossible not to lean into the touch she's always craved.

"Who?" she presses, and Mother's eyes go dark, near black at the question.

"Snow White and her precious prince," she spits out like poison, and the names mean nothing to Regina but she feels the heat of anger ignite within her in solidarity. "Everything that's happened has started with them. Them and the commoners and their _Savior_."

"Savior?"

Mother's face is twisted in rage, tinted red and wrinkled. The once comforting palm against Regina's cheek contorts and the fingers sharpen into points that threaten to claw into her skin. And oh, it takes everything Regina has not to turn and run and never look back.

"Emma Swan."


	2. Chapter 2

Regina is in her thirties. In body, at least. When she was young, she saved a princess on a runaway horse. Had fallen in love with the girl's father, the king. Had gotten married, become queen. Had ruled and been beloved by the kingdom entire.

But the princess was petty. Jealous. Rotten. When the king had died of a failed heart she had struck. Framed Regina and sentenced her to death for treason. Had devoted herself to hunting Regina down when she had escaped and wiping out any claim to the throne she may possess.

It was a tale of treachery and magic. Murder and dark curses. The entirety of the kingdom had been transported to a new realm, and she's forgotten everything, apparently. All of it.

And now Regina sits in the sleek kitchen of a home that supposedly belongs to her, staring at the mischievous smirk of an estranged sister she never knew she had and the solemn grimace of a man, who had allegedly gifted her the curse she had used to escape the wrath of Snow White and save the lives of herself and her family. Her head is pounding and she can't bear to be under the scrutinizing gazes of these strangers any longer. Even her mother, suddenly so soft and warm and free with affectionate touch, feels like an intruder in her life.

Everything is foreign and strange and oh god, Daddy is dead and she can't even see his grave because a woman she's never met has a decades old vendetta against her and has them all trapped in this house that she can't remember living in.

"It's delicate," Mother says as she tugs Regina's hands away from where they grip the edge of the counter like a vice, "we have to be careful."

"We're not sure what they have planned for your heart," Zelena, her sister, adds, voice like honey and everything smooth, "why they haven't simply crushed it."

"Snow has always been vindictive," Mother continues, and Regina nods as though that's something she's always known, "and we fear she has some intricate torture planned. Our only hope is for you to remain here in your home. Your sister and I put up wards to keep them out, yes, but also to keep you in. Should they try and control your actions with the heart and call you out to them, you could only travel so far. That's the best we can manage for the time being, I'm afraid."

Regina eyes the stranger she is expected to call family warily. Mother stretches an arm around her shoulder and gives her a comforting squeeze. Regina leans into the touch. "You have magic?"

"As do you, dear sister."

Her mouth falls open in alarm, but any comments Reigna may have on that fact, any qualms, any opinion whatsoever, is quickly quieted as Mother's grip tightens to near painful levels.

"Another piece of yourself stolen," Mother laments. "Another talent gone. Something," she begins and runs her free hand along Regina's cheek down to her chin to force her daughter's gaze, "I promise to see returned, my love."

Regina swallows and nods, as she knows she is expected to. "Thank you , Mother." The words come easily, as they have been ingrained in her for so very long. Express gratitude for whatever is given, no matter what it entails.

"Of course." And Mother actually leans forward in front of an audience to press a kiss to her temple. "Now," she drawls, "you must be feeling quite overwhelmed. After such an ordeal, surely you must be ravenous."

"Not quite," Regina dares and presses a hand to her abdomen. "I think I would like to return upstairs for more rest."

"Perhaps a bit of bread and water, just to keep up you strength." Mother's words betray that there is no choice to be found here, and it's honestly soothing. The most familiar thing about this whole situation.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," she agrees, because anything less would be far from acceptable. And though it sits in her stomach like lead, Regina eats the toast that pops up from the strange metal box when it is given to her without complaint. Only then is she released to return to the solitude of her bedroom.

Regina feels sick. There's a niggling in her mind, a tiny prickling buzz that whispers of things amiss. She's missing something, it claims, something large and important and maybe even threatening.

A side effect of memory loss, she decides, as she settles back into her enormous bed, because thinking it anything more is nothing that she can handle dealing with at the moment. She'll trust her mother, like a good daughter should, and follow her dutifully with respect until at last her heart is returned.

And then they shall move forward together, as a family. It could be nice, she resolves, if Mother stays so warm. She'd always wanted a sibling. Zelena. An odd name. They could grow to love each other, protect one another, and share in all the things sisters should.

Perhaps they won't even need to do any growing. Perhaps Regina will awaken in the morning with her memories returned and find she loves her sister already. Perhaps she already has the loving family and home she has always desired and has simply forgotten.

Snow White.

She had taken that from her. Mother had explained everything. They had enlisted the help of her mother's friend Rumpelstiltskin, a powerful wizard who had granted them use of a special spell that had allowed them to escape Snow's anger to live peacefully in another realm. Daddy had offered himself as sacrifice for that cause.

Snow and her followers had been swept up as well, but their memories had been locked away and their rage quelled. Regina and her family had lived in peace for many years until one day, disaster struck. The Savior had come and destroyed everything Regina had worked for. Broke the spell and freed her parents. Overthrew the true queen and worked with her mother to hunt down Regina's family.

A great battle had raged, one that they were still in the midst of. Regina had been captured, and her mother, sister, and Rumpelstiltskin had fought tirelessly to gain her back. However, though they had saved her, her heart had been stolen before they could arrive.

That was the tale Mother and Zelena had told while Rumpelstiltskin lurked behind them. It makes for a fantastic story, Regina has to admit, but that is all it is to her. A story. Something that happened to someone else. A person she isn't. A person she may never be again.

She curls up in her too-large bed, huddles into herself, and falls into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days in and she still despises the kitchen. It's loud and everything is always beeping or whirring and spitting heat. Regina stays far from it unless she's specifically called in. Not that it happens often.

Regina's never really called anywhere, given she's never alone. Every day, Mother and Rumpelstiltskin leave the house, off to god knows where, but Zelena is always by her side, stuck like glue, sharp eyes watching Regina's every move. She is outside Regina's bedroom in the morning and lingers there to bid her goodnight, remaining until the door is closed at night. It's eerie and unsettling, but Mother smiles so brightly whenever the two of them appear side by side in a room together Regina hasn't the heart to complain.

It's because she had been so worried, Zelena explains, when Regina politely hints she wouldn't mind space. She had missed her little sister so much. Had feared she'd never see her again. And Regina can't do anything but accept the hug that is thrown around her shoulders and awkwardly pat the older woman's back while Zelena sobs into her hair.

The only time she has alone is in the bathroom - toilets are ghastly devices that bubble and roar and send her sprinting from the room more often than not - and before bed, when her door is closed and she at last has time to herself to think and try so, so hard to remember the life she has forgotten.

"And when we are free of them," Zelena coos one afternoon as they sit together in what Regina's been told is her study, "you and I shall go riding as we used to. Unbound across the fields, with nothing holding us back." She swallows a mouthful of hot coffee from the mug in her hands, strong smelling liquid that makes Regina's nose scrunch up.

Regina sips from her own cup of tea, refusing to drink anything that dribbles from the mouth of a gurgling machine. "That sounds lovely," she says. And it does. Something she'd love to do with a sister. With a friend.

That place deep in her mind still whispers though, _wrong, wrong, wrong_. It says. This is all wrong.

But that doesn't make sense because this is her family in the home they have built together and so Regina smiles and nods and keeps drinking her tea. Zelena tells her of the fun they had in the past and the adventures they will share in the future once Snow and her kin are gone, and they stay together and eat and drink and are docile until bed, where they sleep so they can wake in the morning and do it all over again. And that's how it goes, every day until the sixth.

The sixth day is the day Regina has more water than usual at supper, and so she wakes in the night to visit the bathroom. She tiptoes across her dark room out into the hall and across the hardwood towards the toilet she despises. That's when she hears it, flowing up the stairs to her right, the voice of Rumpelstiltskin, who hardly ever says a word, which is why the event is of note, and probably why it catches her attention at all.

Regina creeps to the banister and peers over it towards the ground floor, careful to keep to the shadows. She's not sure why she hides, but it feels right. There's not much to see. A hint of vibrant red - Zelena - and the left half of Mother. Rumpelstiltskin is out of sight.

"I'm doing my best," he says. "I don't know what else you expect me to do. She won't talk. Regina built up her defenses against any sort of truth inducing substance long ago, as she did to the boy."

Regina remembers nothing of the sort. No building of defenses. No boy. No 'she'.

"Well," Zelena sneers, and it's so, so different than anything she's ever let past her lips in Regina's presence, "maybe your heart's not quite in it."

"I do as I'm told," Rumpelstiltskin spits back and his words are pure venomous hatred, like the sting of Mother's palm across Regina's cheek. "Always. You know that."

"Then maybe the Dark One has lost his touch." The honey is back in Zelena's voice, but the coy arrogance that laces every word sets the hair on the back of Regina's neck on end. "Give me ten minutes with her, Mother. That's all I need."

"And I need you keeping an eye on Regina," Mother returns smoothly, and Regina knows she has to get out. Out. _Out_. But her fingers are wrapped around the banister and her legs are frozen solid as though her feet are sewn into the rug, and she has to keep listening. She just _has_ to. "Besides, I don't trust you not to get overexcited. We need her alive, not shattered into pieces and embedded in the carpet."

Zelena really must be her sister because shattering and embedding sound an awful lot like things Mother would do. And it is that thought that sends Regina scurrying back into bed, chest heaving. She rolls onto her side and pulls the covers high over her shoulder and squeezes her eyes tight, pretends for hours that sleep is not so furiously alluding her, just in case anyone should check in.

Instead of resting on that sixth night, Regina thinks.

There is a 'her' and a 'him'.

A 'boy' and a 'she'.

And, Mother's been telling lies. About what, Regina doesn't know. But there are lies. Plenty of them. Secrets too. Secrets and lies and oh, Regina's not safe she has to get out. _Out_. She has to escape. Has to run. Every fiber of her being is shouting it. Screaming it.

 _Run._

But she can't. She'll be too slow. Too weak. She'll be discovered. Caught. She can't. Mother's too strong and Zelena's too smart and Rumpelstiltskin is something menacing she can't quite pinpoint, and how could Regina ever stand against any one of them?

So she broods and frets in bed, and then rises in the morning with the sun and opens the door to Zelena's beaming smile as usual. It makes her body hum with anxious fear that she fights to contain because now she knows. She's always felt the insincerity but now Regina _knows_. She _heard_. And she might not know exactly _what_ she knows, but she knows there is _something_ to know, and that's enough to set her on edge.

Her stomach is a knot of nerves but she swallows down the eggs her sister makes and sips politely at the tea thrust in front of her and says, "no, not yet. I can't recall a thing," when asked about her memory, and pretends not to notice the pleased, upward twitch of Zelena's lips at her words. It's just like every morning Regina's found herself in this strange home she can't remember living in, except this time she's past denial.

She's ready to accept whatever betrayal is playing out around her. A total farce. So, instead of half listening to Zelena prattle on about lies neither of them care about, and lamenting the loss of Rocinante, of Daddy, of home, she keeps her eyes and ears trained on the movements of her Mother and Rumpelstiltskin.

It takes three more days. Three more days of false smiles and fake affection and nothing ever meaning anything. Three.

And then Regina finally learns, finally knows, finally catches them. They don't leave. They _never_ leave. They don't go out of the house to fight some noble war to free the family from the clutches of an evil princess gone mad in her lust for power.

They don't go out. They double back, loop around, sneak when Zelena is meant to have Regina docile, complacent, distracted. They don't go out. They go down.

 _Down._

Down into the basement.


	4. Chapter 4

Regina waits against the door, ear pressed to the wood. Zelena retires first. She lingers outside Regina's bedroom for a time, then she pads down the hall, disappears into her own room just a single door down.

Time moves at a crawl. Her room is near bare, but they've allotted her a clock and have taught her to assign value to the numbers that blink searing red on the device. She watches it as she waits and rubs at her eyes whenever they start to sting.

The clock reads two, then three. Regina's nose runs and her gaze is now near burning but she refuses to falter. Tonight it the tenth night since she's woken, and it's the night she'll learn the truth. She'll wait as long as she has to.

Three. Three thirty-six, to be exact. That's when she hears Mother, pace collected and cool, as she moves up the stairs and down the hall to her room.

Regina waits longer still. Gives Mother time to visit the washroom if she must, change her clothes if that is something she does before bed, brush out her hair perhaps, fluff out her pillows. The things the average person might do, though a small piece of Regina doubts she does.

Because average people are human, and Mother has always been... _more_. Normal concerns have never seemed to touch her. She's always been tall and broad and _there_ without trivial concerns such as basic survival ever seeming to weigh on her mind.

Still, Regina waits, because the longer she does the farther Mother feels. And Regina might be suspicious, sure. She might be determined. But she's still fucking terrified.

Twenty-two minutes. That's how long she waits.

And then she goes.

She creeps out and then across and then down. Down. Down. Down. And the door to the basement is unlocked when she twists the knob, which almost sends her scurrying back into the safety of her bed because if this were important, if this door hid the truth, then surely Mother would bolt it up tight. So it must either be nothing, or an elaborate trap she's willingly strutting straight into, and past experience has her inclined to believe it's the latter.

But she can't because she has to know.

She just _has to_.

So she twists and pulls, and then shifts her weight onto the first step that leads down into the faint light flickering weakly at the bottom of the stairs. It's silent. Absolutely silent. Then down she goes. One. Two. Three. Four. Four steps down.

And then she hesitates because she passes through magic. Her heart clenches because it flows around her as she steps through it like an intangible wall and she can feel it slid along her skin like phantom fingers. She's not sure what it's going to do to her but it can't be a good because when oh when has magic ever done anything good? She holds her breath and squeezes her eyes shut and prays. Prays. Prays. Prays.

Prays Mother won't appear. Prays she won't be shocked. Or burned. Or stung. Prays she'll be allowed to keep everything she has left of herself.

Nothing happens. She counts to ten. Nothing has changed. Nothing except, it's no longer silent. Now she can hear. Now she can hear everything. The slow steady drip of water on cement. The slight clink of metal shifting against metal. Coughing.

Someone coughs.

And something inside Regina that she has no control over recognizes the sound and sends her dashing down the rest of the steps in a frantic rush to reach the bottom. It's a tiny room she stumbles into. Stained with nothing she ever wants to consider and filled with devices she refuses to look at. And in the middle a figure hangs. A woman.

Maybe it's 'her'. Maybe it's 'she'.

Regina prays not because 'she' and 'her' sounded like someone she might need by the way Mother spoke and this woman is strung up like meat. Her hands are bound together with rope that's tethered to the ceiling and her feet scrap limply over the cement floor, each ankle wrapped in thick chains.

Overkill, Regina can't stop herself from thinking.

Matted, stringy hair. Skin deathly pale in most places it's showing, inhumanly purple in the rest. And she reeks. God, does she reek. But Regina has to move closer, despite how the smell twists up her nose in disgust, because her body is screaming, even if she doesn't know why.

Her bare feet shuffle along the floor and the woman moves. Her head slowly rises, eyes hard and defiant, and Regina's movement stutters to a stop under the cruel gaze because even at her most furious Mother has never looked at her with such intense hatred. And then the eyes widen, soften, shine. They light with such joy Regina can hardly stand to match the stare, and she shifts under the look because it holds things that have never before been hers.

"Regina," the woman breaths, impossibly reverant, like her name is the answer to all questions. "Thank god. I thought-" Her eyes flutter shut and she swallows. It looks like a struggle. It looks like it hurts. "You look good. You're okay." She nods to herself for her own reassurance, and winces when the movement disturbs her injuries.

The injuries. Everywhere. Over everything. Scrapes, burns, cuts. Lacerations over everything. Bold, striking red against pale skin. Dark bruises. Angry, bitter, frustrated marks that have Regina suddenly grateful for the kindness of Mother's palm.

And Regina's crying for the pain of this stranger without any understanding. She's never liked pained. Never lusted after the sight of suffering. But this is a different sort of sorrow than pity. This is raw and personal and her body is aching and Regina knows there's something here she's missing. There's a reason she so desperately cares but she can't for the life of her remember and that sets her sobbing even more.

"Hey," the woman soothes, voice cracked and weak, "don't. It's gonna be okay. Please don't cry."

"I don't," Regina gasps, raw and watery.

"What?" the woman leans forward, brow furrowed under the crust of dried blood, pushing closer even as she grimaces through the pain it puts her through, and god she reeks.

She reeks and she's dying but there's only one thing she cares about, and Regina knows this is 'her'. This is 'she' and this, what's happening here, what has been happening for days beneath her feet, it's her fault, she's done this. This is her family in her home hurting her 'she' and whatever's happening she'll never be strong enough to stop it.

When has she ever been strong enough to stop anything?

"I don't," she stutters again and clutches at her own stomach, wraps herself up tight.

"Regina," the woman whispers, and when Regina dares to meet her gaze again she sees nothing but wide-eyed understanding. Eyes that could be blue or could be green. Eyes only on her with kindness and compassion and not an ounce of resentment. "Do you know who I am?"

She chokes out a sob and shakes her head and curls into herself. Falling into a crouch, she buries her head into her knees and rocks slowly because she had gone for a ride with Daddy. it had been a Good Day. They had flown across the fields and pressed their luck, staying out so long it was entirely possible they might not make it back for supper. But they had. They had and it was so Good and they had shared secret smiles over their meal at their small act of rebellion and Regina had gone to bed warm, and full, and something close to happy.

And then she had woken up and she was here and there was this whole life she couldn't remember living and nothing made sense, and now there was this woman who looked at her with an affection Regina had never before claimed and she was failing her because she can't help. She can't, but she knows that she would be able to if only she could remember.

But she can't. She can't. She can't. She can't. Regina rocks and sobs because she loves her Mother and is learning so much about her sister but it is _wrong_ and down here in this disgusting, smelly pit with this complete stranger is where she belongs. She knows it. Every single infinitesimal inch of her body knows it.

She just _knows_.

"It's gonna be okay," the woman says, and every word is quieter than the last, as though each time she opens her mouth the act gets more impossible. "You don't remember anything about the curse? About Storybrooke?"

Regina stares up at her from behind watery eyes. "No," she murmurs, voice thick and slow.

The woman sighs. "Look at you," she muses, softly, like Regina's not supposed to hear. "You're so young." She shifts in her bindings. "How old do you think- uh, how old are you?"

"Seventeen," Regina manages, and for the first time since she's woken in this world it feels good to talk. It feels safe and she struggles to her feet. Faces the other woman on more equal terms. "At least, that's what my mind seems to think I am."

"Wow," the woman breathes. "Okay. And I'm sure they haven't been letting you have access to your magic."

Regina shakes her head. "They told me Snow White stole it."

And she doesn't know how the woman can laugh when she's hanging in a basement torture dungeon, but she does. It's rough and grating and weak, but it's a laugh. "Of course they did."

She shifts again, winces. "Can you try something for me?"

Regina hesitates, takes a step back.

"I won't hurt you."

"She can make you say that," Regina murmurs.

The woman nods. "You're right. She could make a lot of people say whatever she wanted, but not me."

Regina tilts her head, considers her carefully.

"A heart can't be taken from my chest against my will," she continues, "Cora learned that the hard way." There's something like a smile on her lips, though it's half formed and trembles. "Come here."

Her body trusts before Regina does, and moves forward, drags her along until she is directly in front of the woman. And the smell doesn't matter so much anymore because the woman jerks her head towards her chest, and Regina's hand raises to press against it, and everything is warm and soft and familiar. Past the fresh scarring, the crusted blood, the pale skin, a steady thumping heart beats, strong and sure.

"I'm just me," the woman soothes. "Will you help?"

Regina licks her lips and nods.

"Good." The woman huffs and tilts her head back to look up at the bindings that hold her. "See the rope around my wrists up there? Just below it. See that brown bracelet thing? Like a leather cuff?"

"Yes."

"Reach up and touch it. Put your hands on it and imagine it coming off."

Regina recoils. "Like magic? I can't-"

"Try, Regina," the woman presses. "Try. Please."

And so Regina tries. She stretches up her hands and rises up on her toes and just barely brushes the cuff with the tips of her fingers. She stretches so her calves ache and squeezes her eyes shut and wills it to come apart. To fall off. To vanish.

Nothing happens.

She growls and falls back on her heels, defeated and self-loathing. "See? I can't. I told you I can't-"

"Hey," the woman coos and it's so very different than Zelena's honeyed tone. The difference is so clear Regina doesn't know how she ever let her sister fool her for even a second. "Don't get upset. It's okay. It was a long shot. I didn't think it would work but we had to at least try, yeah? It's okay. It's fine." And she leans into Regina, straining against her tethers, so desperate to comfort but completely unable.

"Don't move so much. If you start pulling too hard, Cora will be alerted."

Regina whips around, back to the woman, eyes on the stairs. No one has descended. No. But someone has been there, lurking in a shadowed corner the entirety of her visit. Rumpelstiltskin. Regina backs away and bumps into the woman behind her, dread pooling in her stomach.

"You," she breathes.

"Me," he agrees.

"It's okay, Regina." She feels the woman's forehead come forward to press into her hair. "He won't hurt you. Not right now, at least."

"He'll tell," she insists, leaning back into the comforting touch. Her body knows it. Is hungry for it.

Rumpelstiltskin's beady, searching eyes never leave them. "Your sister ordered me to watch the prisoner. She never specifically said to verbally alert her should anything out of the ordinary beyond attempted escape occur, despite her intent. I've been watching, as told."

Regina feels a humorless chuckle against her back. "I'm kinda fond of your shady side when it's not being used against me, Gold."

"I recall you weren't so fond of the fire."

"Not when it almost burned me down too, old man."

His lips twitch. "I'm fairly certain you're not supposed to be speaking."

"I can sing if you'd like?"

"That's quite all right."

Regina's dizzy with things she doesn't understand. And she only jolts out her daze when the woman nudges a knee into the back of her thigh.

"Get out of here, Regina. Go upstairs. You can't let them catch you down here." She forces a smile past her chapped lips when Regina turns to face her. "Just keep playing their games and stay safe. I'm gonna figure this out. I'll get you out of here. I promise."

Rumpelstiltskin - or is it Gold? - snorts from his corner. "Yes, you do seem to be right on the cusp of escape."

"Shut up," the woman spits at him. And then she's soft again, all round edges. "Just keep pretending, Regina."

Her eyes dart up to the woman's bindings. "I could untie-" she starts.

"No," the woman shouts, too loud in the quiet room. "No. They'd know it was you and I can't-" the woman's eyes shoot to the cuff wrapped around her forearm. "I'm too weak right now. I couldn't put up much of a fight. Just go upstairs, Regina. Just keep pretending."

"Don't let them know you're anything but complacent," Gold adds. "If they get suspicious, if they ask, I'll be forced to tell."

"I'm so confused."

"I know."

"I-"

"Just go upstairs, Regina. Stay safe. I'll come for you, I promise. I'll find a way."

Regina doesn't know why, because the woman looks like she wouldn't even be able to walk should Regina release her, but she trusts the promise as she steps back towards the stairs.

"Don't come back down here."

"I won't."


	5. Chapter 5

Regina goes back down there.

She only brings herself to wait two days.

"Stupid kid," the woman shoots at her as soon as she tiptoes into sight, but there's little bite to the words. She's so, so weak and there's too much affection to fight through. It makes Regina's chest tight. "I told you not to come back."

Regina moves up to her and let's her eyes rove over the dangling form. There's more blood and the cuts are fresher, deeper even, those beautiful eyes are dull, near lifeless. And there's something deep in Regina that screams that this is unacceptable. There's a piece of her threatening that this just won't fly. That she will burn, and claw, and destroy before this goes any further.

But there's a block in her mind, and she can't remember why this is so, so wrong, and why this woman is so important, and all she can do is cling to this stranger who somehow feels like the most familiar, comforting friend she's ever had, and cry.

"You're dying," she whispers into the abused skin.

"I won't," the woman insists, and shifts all of her weight forward into Regina, as though attempting to return the embrace.

"You will."

"I refuse. Don't worry about me. If you could remember, you'd know i'm pretty stubborn and more than a little durable." And that woman, that imbecile, she's actually laughing again. "Insufferable. That's what you used to call me."

Regina steps back, gazes up at her and sniffs. "I did?"

"Yes." The woman grins. Or, she offers up as near to a grin as she can manage. "Among many other, less kind things." She nudges Regina away with a bump of her forehead. "Now go. Upstairs."

"I can't-" Regina murmurs, and raises a hand to run along the nicked curve of the woman's cheek because her fingers just know they've done this a thousand times before. "I can't just leave you like this."

The woman closes her eyes and leans her head into the touch. "You have to."

"What do they want from you?" Regina wants to run. Cover her ears and flee, because it's going to be bad. It's going to be something about her, something to do with her, and she's going to know for certain that she is Worthless and a Liability and that everything, all of this, is Her Fault.

"I shouldn't-" the woman breathes.

"I need to know." She does. Even if she doesn't want to.

"I don't want to freak you out."

Regina slides her hands down the woman's neck, laces her fingers lightly around the back, presses their heads together. The gesture is unfamiliar and natural all at once. An intimate touch she has no experience with and yet also a common occurrence. It drives her mad. "Please," she begs.

The woman clamps her eyes shut and leans into her and chokes out, "Your heart," like they're the two most painful words in existence. "They want me to tell them where I hid your heart."

"Oh." So Mother really didn't take it. There had been lies. Countless lies. But that hadn't been one of them. Regina licks her lips. "Are you Snow White?"

A strangled sort of sound escapes the woman. "No."

Regina nods against her, tries again. "Are you Emma Swan?"

And there was no point in asking because it's so obvious and yes, of course this woman, battered and bloody and dangling in front of her with a self-conscious smile, is Emma Swan, the Savior.

"Hi."

'She'.

'Her'.

Emma.

Regina breathes deep. "Hi."

And it's like a piece of her heart is returned, like there's air she didn't know she was missing back in her lungs. She feels fuller. More complete. And it's not even close to everything, but it's something, and it feels right. It feels like it will all come back if she can just hold on to Emma and she'll be herself again. The real Regina. The version of herself she's meant to be.

"You have to go now. It's not safe for you. Sometimes Zelena gets up in the night. Sometimes she-" Emma snorts. "She's getting bored playing by Cora's rules. We can't let her catch you."

The words send a shiver through Regina. Her body huddles into Emma on instinct to ward off the feeling. "Why do they want my heart?" And it sounds like she's whining, which should probably be mortifying, but Emma won't berate her for her weakness. Regina knows that.

She just _does_.

"It doesn't matter," Emma dismisses. "Go."

"It matters to me," Regina snaps back and Emma flinches against her.

"I-" Emma begins and it sounds an awful lot like the beginnings of an argument so Regina leans back and shoots her a hard glare that rivals one of Mother's. Instead of striking fear, the look brightens Emma's features. It draws a pained smile to her lips and fills her eyes with a shining light.

She drops her head as much as she can, and the angle is awkward as she hangs there, but Emma manages to nuzzle her face into the crook of Regina's neck. Regina feels her breathe deep and mumble into her skin, "Young as you are, you're still Regina Mills."

Again, Regina shivers, but this one is different. This one, she's never felt before and her body warms, yearning for something she doesn't yet completely understand.

"They need your heart," Emma whispers, "but that doesn't matter because I'll never let them have it."

Regina swallows.

"Do you believe that? Do you believe me?"

And there's nothing to do but nod because she can't speak and _of course_. Of course she believes the words Emma sighs into her skin with a gentle reverence Regina has never known. How could she not?

"Good." And then Emma tilts back and presses rough, chapped lips against her temple. Regina's whole body hums at the kiss and there's a spark in her mind like this is Right and How Things Are, and how can she have forgotten everything Emma is?

"Now go. Hurry."

Through her reluctance, Regina manages to force herself back and away, to release Emma and turn for the stairs. To start her return to the family that may very well wish her dead.

She spies Rumplestiltskin in his dark corner, present for their interaction entire, but only ever silent. Maybe she'd be embarrassed in other circumstances. Now though, Regina's only tired, and she ignores the way his eyes follow her across the floor. She sets foot on the stair and begins her ascent.

"Don't come back," Emma calls.

"I won't," Regina promises.

She does.


	6. Chapter 6

The third time around, it's not any less strange descending the stairs through the bubble of silence. Regina's worked it out by now. Emma can hear the faint noises of everything going on upstairs within her sphere of silence and she can waste her energy screaming for help, because nobody upstairs can hear her. Regina can't hear her.

Regina can't hear what they do to Emma in the basement while she's upstairs warm and dry and sipping tea.

It's easy to ignore Rumpelstiltskin where he lurks and move straight up to Emma.

"I'm starting to think you don't understand what 'I won't come back' actually means." Emma looks awful. Worse than Regina's ever seen, and her voice is a hoarse whisper.

"I can't just abandon you down here," Regina insists. Because what? She's supposed to go to sleep? Pretend this isn't happening beneath the floorboards?

"You can't come so often," Emma forces out, and Regina winces at a phantom pain in her own throat because it sounds like she's spitting out rocks, "they'll catch on. You're missing too much sleep. You already look tired."

"And you look-" Regina starts then fades as she takes the woman in.

She steps close and brings up a shaking hand to pull up Emma's tattered, sweaty shirt to just under her breasts. Emma studies her movements with a cloudy, dull gaze. Regina rakes her nails, featherlight, over dented, nicked, imperfect flesh to trace the outline of prominent ribs.

Emma hisses when she grazes over a nasty looking gash. "Stings," she whines.

Regina pulls away. The remnants of the shirt flutter back down into place. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." And Emma's gaze is cloudy, yes, but there's an intensity deep within her eyes that Regina feels certain can never fade. It's impossible. There's too much of Emma's essence within them.

She blinks, because somehow she just knows that's a thought she's had before. Her cheeks heat and she turns her head away. Swallows. "How do I stop this?"

"You can't."

"Neither can you." Regina tries not to pout, even as she huffs out the words. She doesn't want to be young and petulant and seventeen in front of Emma. She wants to be wise and mature and have everything under control. She wants to be able to fix this.

She _needs_ to be able to fix this.

"I'm working on Zelena," Emma says. "When she comes at night, which is why you can't be here."

"How?" Regina presses, because she can't just walk away again without knowing there's some sort of plan.

It's Emma who huffs then, though it comes out a painful wheeze. "She's getting frustrated. Desperate. Sloppy. She'll make a mistake sooner or later. I'll be ready when she does."

"Sooner or later?" Regina spits. "Sooner or later you'll be dead, you idiot."

Emma smirks - actually smirks - at her. "You sound so much like yourself." Her face falls, her lips curve into a soft frown. "I wish you were here."

Regina doesn't know if she's angry or touched or she wants to cry. She settles for everything at once and Emma shakes her head at the tears that roll down Regina's cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

"Please," Regina presses, throat thick, words watery. "Let me untie you. Please. We have to run."

"You can't. The second I'm released, Gold will attack and Cora will know."

Regina peers over her shoulder, glares back at Rumpelstiltskin where he stands, passive as ever. He doesn't even have the good grace to look apologetic.

"He's as much a prisoner as we are," Emma says, regaining Regina's attention. "It would be you and me against them, and I don't have any magic to defend us."

"But-" Regina whimpers pathetically.

"I can't run," Emma soothes, "but you can."

Regina's head snaps up. "What?"

"Look, I don't know what Cora did to fuck with your head and make you forget. I was having you wait because the plan was to use my magic to bust out of here and force her to undo it but I don't think- I'm not going to-" Emma sighs under the weight of what she won't say aloud.

"You're smart, Regina. Memories or not you're still you. You figured out something was wrong and you found me and now you can be free. All you have to do is get out of this house and everyone will be waiting. Our family, Regina. They'll protect you.

"I won't leave you." She can't. It's a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. A piece of herself that remembers, that knows who she truly is, refuses.

"You don't even know who I am."

"I do." Regina raises a hand. "I can feel it." She hovers it over Emma's chest. Over her heart. Presses gently. "You."

"Regina, look at me." And Regina regrets complying the instant she does because tears are pooling in Emma's eyes and a piece of her breaks. "They had you, and I came in here to get you out, but I-" Emma's voice trembles, falters, "I failed. I got caught. I messed up and that's on me. But you? You have a chance. You have a chance and you need to run before-"

"Why do they want my heart?" Regina bursts.

Emma frowns. Her eyes fall shut. "Because they need you to be whole," she murmurs.

Regina swallows. "Why?"

"Because Cora is dead."

"No," Regina startles, and she's not sure if the idea makes her upset or frightened or grateful but her emotions don't matter because it can't be true. Mother's been there the whole time. Speaking to Regina. Touching Regina. Loving Regina. "She-"

"She is," Emma insists. "I'm sorry. Your mother is dead, Regina. And your sister wanted to bring her back."

"I don't understand."

Emma's smile is weak and forced, but it's intended to comfort Regina and so Regina accepts it gratefully. "There's a lot to it. We're gonna have to gloss over a bit."

"She's dead?"

And it can't be true, but it must be because Emma is saying it and Emma doesn't lie. Not to her. Not anymore. Regina knows it.

She just _knows_.

"Yes. I'm sorry." It feels like she actually means it.

"Oh." Both of her parents then. Gone. She's alone.

"How-"

"There's not really time." Emma huffs. "The short story is, Cora died and Zelena tried to bring her back. We figured out Zelena's plan, you and me. You gave me your heart in case your sister got the better of you in a fight. Told me to hide it in the safest place I could think of. Somewhere only I knew. I did. Not long after, you got ambushed, taken. Zelena forced Gold to help her confine you here. They erected a barrier around the house to keep the rest of us out."

"She told me about that," Regina cuts in, pleased to know something for once. "She said it was to protect us from Snow. Our last line of defense while we figured out our next move."

"It was to keep us from stopping them, Regina. From rescuing you." Emma shakes her head and it looks so, so painful Regina wishes she'd stop moving. "I used my magic to break through. It was difficult. Nearly impossible. I was supposed to slip away with you from right under Zelena's nose. I can't beat both her and Gold at once, but I can put up enough of a fight to make a getaway. Especially with you at my side. I didn't know though that they had already started their-" Emma hesitates, face screwed up in thought, "spell or ritual or whatever you want to call it. I don't really understand one hundred percent what happened but-"

Rumpelstiltskin decides then is when he'd like to speak. "We summoned Cora's soul from the underworld and attempted to tether her to this realm, but to complete the act there needs to be balance. An exchange. A sacrifice." His eyes trail over Regina's form. "A blood sacrifice."

Regina curls in on herself. "Me?"

He nods, not a trace of sympathy in his gaze. "The exchange failed. You were an empty shell. Heartless. Cora is strongest here, where her spirit was first called. She is corporeal, real, in most senses. She can speak and hear and touch and taste. The farther she strays however, the weaker she becomes. I'd guess she can't travel much further than the yard before beginning to fade. She's trapped here as much as you and I. Until, that is, she claims your body for her own."

"That won't happen," Emma hisses.

Rumpelstiltskin nods and it's a smooth, mocking motion. Complete condescension. "Of course."

Regina thinks she might learn to hate him rather quickly, prisoner or no. A threatening growl sounds deep in Emma's chest.

"Emma?" Regina turns to her.

"Don't be scared," Emma says, soothing as ever. "I won't let them. They'll never have your heart."

Regina's brings her hand to clutch at her own chest where her heart should rest. It feels cold and empty. "Where is it?"

"Somewhere safe," Emma assures her, gaze soft. "The safest place it can be."

At the top of the stairs, there's a rattling clatter.

The basement door is wrenched open.


	7. Chapter 7

Emma squirms against her binds and Regina desperately wants to reach out and stop her from hurting herself but-

"The corner," Emma hisses, "get in the corner."

And Regina flees because there are footsteps on the stairs and whoever they belong to, whatever family member approaches, being caught is not an option. She darts past Rumplestiltskin and squats down in the shadows behind him and knows this is pointless. She'll be spotted in a second.

"You can't help her with her memories or escape, Gold," Emma whispers at a frantic pace, likely to spit out the words before whoever is coming passes through the sound barrier, "but they never said anything specific about helping her physically hide. It isn't in their orders. Please, Gold. You have to." Her eyes are wide and desperate. "There's always a loophole. Please."

And for a moment Regina thinks the strange, quiet man will leave them to their fate, but then he raises a hand, waves it over Regina's form. She feels the familiar tingle. The heat of magic. It shimmers over her skin then vanishes, and Regina prays that whatever was just done to her, it will keep the woman who just passed into the basement from sensing her presence.

Zelena moves into the center of the room.

Of course. Emma said she might come.

"Good evening," Zelena greets sweetly, eyes only for Emma. She doesn't spare Rumpelstiltskin - or Regina - so much as a glance. "I'm surprised you're not sleeping while you have the chance."

Emma ignores the statement. "Rebelling again?" she says instead, voice slimy, smooth. Regina hates it. "Surely Mother won't be pleased."

Zelena raises her head, chin high. "She will be when I'm the one who gets her everything she needs."

Regina freezes. Her heart. That's what Mother needs. What Zelena wants. Her heart. Then, her body. Her life. She tightens her arms around her legs and buries her head into her knees and prays for this nightmare to be over.

"The dedicated daughter she never had."

"You're not getting anything out of me." Emma snickers and Regina can hear how painful it is. "Even though i'd love to see the look on your face when you realize, after giving Cora the world, that she doesn't give a shit about you beyond what you can do for her."

Regina peeks up at the women just feet away and watches her sister throw back her head in wicked delight.

"My, so much fire still after all this time." Zelena claps her hands together with a girlish giggle. "The loyalty, the determination, the tenacity. It's all very endearing. I can see why my sister's so fond of you."

She brings a hand up and strokes Emma's cheek with careful tenderness. Something hot and angry gurgles in the pit of Regina's stomach.

"Or rather, was. I'm afraid she's forgotten all about you. Tragic, isn't it? You down here, dying for her, right below her feet, and she'll never know." Zelena cackles with glee. "You should see her now. All doe-eyed and bashful. It's precious, really. I might even miss her when she's gone." She hums her contentment.

"Now, enough chatter. I think, your friend Gold, is going a fair bit too easy on you, wouldn't you say?"

Emma heaves a breath. "I don't know. I've been feeling it," she drawls.

Zelena beams at her sarcasm. "That's the spirit. Keep fighting your hardest." She leans in close and whispers dramatically, "That makes it more enjoyable for all of us."

Regina curls into herself and closes her eyes as tight as she is physically able. She can't watch, she can't, but she has to hear because as she finds out, her hands can only block out so much when cupped over her ears.

Smash. Slap. Gush. Thud.

She presses her hands closer, digs her fingers into her temples. It doesn't do much. Because even though Emma is strong - stronger than Regina could ever imagine being - and doesn't utter a word, she's still making sounds and _god,_ Regina will never forget those sounds. Whimpers and squeals and cries and it's all Regina's fault.

It's all her fault. All of it.

It stops.

"Where is it?"

"F-fuck you."

And then it starts again.

And Regina weeps silently into her knees because if it weren't for her this wouldn't be happening and even if this ends and she isn't spotted and she's free to return to her room, how is she supposed to turn away and walk upstairs after this?

It goes and goes and goes. It goes for so long - too long - and Regina can't fathom how much time has passed. It feels like an eternity. It's too much. Too much. It's going too far. Zelena's going too far. Doesn't she want Emma alive? Doesn't she need Emma alive? She's killing her. She's killing her and Regina's just sitting there letting it happen.

And then it stops.

Emma coughs and splutters and spits. Zelena huffs in irritation.

"Well, congratulations, Savior. You've spoiled all the fun."

Regina's head snaps up, but her wide eyes don't zero in on Emma, dangling torn and battered and bloody, they focus on Zelena, who is preening. It can't mean-

"I really thought you'd break, you know. With her watching."

Regina flushes with cold, her insides like ice. Zelena knows. She's known the whole time.

Of course.

"I wanted her to watch as you betrayed her. As your forfeited her life to save your own skin. I'm bored now though. No point in playing our game any longer."

Emma lifts her head, gaze unfocused, muscles shaking with the effort. "You-"

"Knew the first time Regina stepped foot down here. You think I would be stupid enough to leave the pair of you to your own devices?" She clicks her tongue, tuts her disapproval. "Honestly." And then she waves a hand towards Regina and it's over.

Rumpelstiltskin's magic is dissolved and Regina is lifted against her will, drawn to Zelena's side without her consent.

"Stop," Emma splutters and it's probably supposed to be a threat but it's weak and baseless.

It's over.

Zelena turns her head and sneers at her younger sister. "Stupid girl. I knew from the first night, but I watched and waited." Her attention moves back to Emma. "You were proving unbreakable, dear Emma. A true _Savior_." The word is cruel and mocking.

"And we couldn't risk you dying before knowing your secret. This could have gone on for ages. Lucky then, that I thought to myself, hmm, who is the one person Emma would ever tell her precious secret to? And I was right. It didn't take long for you to spill the secret. Even without memories you two bleeding hearts are unbearably sentimental." Zelena pulls a face. "Gag me."

Emma shakes her head. Eyes haunted. Desperate. "I never said-" she tries, and it sounds like pleading.

"You've said enough," Zelena leers, and then she raises her hand. Places it over Emma's chest, curls her fingers into claw like points. And Emma's eyes are so wide and full of sorrow that Regina knows it's over.

It's all over.

"You've said more than enough."


	8. Chapter 8

"The whole time?"

"Yes. Right under our noses."

Zelena has a sort of begrudging respect in her tone, like she admires Emma's ploy. Mother just looks furious. She and Zelena stand together in front of Emma and Regina. Rumplestiltskin lingers as always, firmly on the outskirts, awaiting command.

Regina is frozen, muscles immobilized by her sister's magic so she's forced to stand by Emma's side and simply await whatever comes next.

Death, probably.

"And so a new problem arises," Mother mumbles, eyes hard and unwavering on Emma. She raises a hand and reaches out, as though to make for the heart tucked safely away in the Savior's chest, but let's her arm fall a moment later.

Zelena moves her hands to her hips. "Any bright ideas, Dark One?"

Rumplestiltskin shifts. "It's been proven to us twice now a heart can't be taken from the Savior's chest without her willing consent."

"Shame we can't just slice her open." Zelena leans in towards Emma, brow furrowed. "Where's _your_ heart then? They both in there?"

"Like I'd tell you," Emma snaps.

Mother shakes her head. "There can't be two hearts. She must have removed her own and hidden that instead to ensure the safety of this one."

"Well, we find her's then." Zelena straightens, nods to herself as though she's just solved all of their problems. Regina prays she hasn't. "Order her to remove Regina's heart herself."

"How?" Mother snaps. "A locator spell? I'm sure Regina's taught her enough by now. It will be protected against our magic."

Zelena huffs and levels Emma with a stern glare. "Is it protected against locator spells?"

Emma beams at her captor despite the clear effort it takes. "Try one and see."

Mother scowls and Zelena growls. It's a small victory but Regina takes it happily. Maybe with Emma here, things aren't quite so hopeless. She's still fighting after all of this time. Regina needs to fight too.

"The only way to discover its whereabouts would be for her to tell us willingly," Mother says. "Which puts us back at square one."

Zelena grins at that. "Oh goody," she cheers, hands clasped under her chin, "I suppose that leaves us with plan C then."

Mother sniffs. "Don't damage her body too much. It will be my own, before long." She wanders back towards the stairs to watch from a comfortable distance.

Regina lets out a choked sob. For a second she thought that maybe Emma had gotten them. Had set up an unsolvable problem that not even the likes of Cora with all of her magic and rage could tackle.

Looks like, as usual, she's wrong.

"Of course." And Zelena reaches out to wrap long, thin fingers around Regina's bicep.

In an instant Emma jerks forward against her bindings, straining with whatever strength she has left. "Stop it."

"We will," Zelena coos. "Just give us the heart."

"The whole reason you want it is to kill her," Emma seethes, still straining. Her voice is rough and her eyes are desperate and she looks like the human embodiment of pain as she struggles to break free.

"Then watch her suffer first." And Zelena actually shrugs as she yanks Regina to her side, like this isn't about life and death.

Emma shakes her head, frantic, ragged hair flying this way and that. "You're bluffing," She declares, but it sounds more like pleading. "You can't risk her dying. You need her alive. And I can't give you the heart without killing her." She nods to herself. "I think this is called an impasse."

Zelena barks out a laugh. It chills Regina's blood. "I think, you don't quite grasp the situation. There are two ways this can go down. Either you give me the heart now and you both die, or you put my dear sister through horrible pain and pointless torture, and _then_ you give me the heart and you both die." She beams. "So, fast or slow, your choice, Savior."

Emma doesn't speak.

"Slow it is."

And then Regina feels it, right where Zelena's palm is. A heat. A magical heat. It passes through the thin material of her sleep shirt as though it isn't even there and hits Regina's skin. It's warm, then hot. _Too hot_. And she can't even squirm in discomfort because Zelena still has her frozen.

"Stop it," Emma shouts when a whimper slips past Regina's lips, jerking forward, and there's this wild look in her eyes as she uses the little momentum she's managed to build to throw herself against her bindings again and again.

"Give me the heart," Zelena demands, far from touched.

Regina hates herself for it, because it's all her fault really, and it isn't even a fraction of what Emma's been going through, but it hurts. It really hurts. And she can't stop herself from crying out as Zelena's hand seers itself into her arm with white hot magical heat.

"Stop," Emma cries. She's so, so desperate, and Regina tries to focus on that, instead of how Zelena lifts a hand to press against her other arm.

"The heart," Zelena insists, tone bored. Utterly uninterested.

"I said stop." And there's something off about Emma now because it looks like she's...glowing? Maybe? But Regina can't quite tell because Zelena's hands are hot and she can smell her flesh burning beneath her sister's touch and she doesn't know how Emma withstood a second of this, let alone days.

"Don't," Emma's screech fills the room and there's a crackling explosion. A blinding white light. A forceful push. No, a blast. A forceful blast of pure, blinding, energy. Zelena's hold on her is ripped away and Regina crumples to the ground in a heap, and then everything goes dark. Completely dark.

But only for a second.

Because it feels like as soon as she's down, she's being yanked up. And she doesn't know how, but Emma is there in front of her, pulling her along. She's swaying on shaking legs like she might fall, might collapse, any second. But she's there and she's tugging and she says, "Regina, move," in a urgent, pleading tone and Regina just has to follow.

It's surreal. Mother is flat on her back on the floor. Rumpelstiltskin is in a graceless heap just a foot away. Zelena is curled on her side by the stairs, but she struggles to stand as they make for the exit. Regina wants to skid to a halt as her sister rises, but Emma doesn't falter for a second. She grips Regina's arm with a trembling hand that leaves Regina wondering just how this woman is even standing, and plows right through Zelena.

It a merciless hit. One that sends Zelena reeling. She goes down again, hard, and something metallic skitters across the floor. Regina throws a look over her shoulder as Emma drags her, stumbling up the staircase, to inspect it. It's a dagger. An ugly looking thing. A long blade, twisted and curved.

Rumpelstiltskin stands over it, picks it up, and then Zelena staggers to her feet as well. And the smile he's wearing as Mother rises to join them - that _smile_ \- It has Regina quivering.

"Well now," he sings sweetly, "this is an unfortunate turn of events."

And then Emma tugs her through the sound barrier so Regina can't hear. But she can see. Rumplestiltskin, Zelena, Mother, hands all raised and bearing down on one another. Blinding flashes, thick smoke. Purple. Gray. Green.

Emma guides her out into the house and around the corner towards the front door. The one Regina has never dared go near with Zelena's keen gaze always studying her. Emma sort of wobbles on the turns. Lurches too far to the left, teeters into the wall with a thud that rattles the decor. She never falters though, mouth set in grim determination, and the front door proves little hindrance to the likes of Emma Swan.

Regina follows her out into the front yard she's only viewed from closed windows. The wind is fresh and cool upon her cheeks, the fading moonlight dances along her face, and crickets chirp in the grass below them, no knowledge of the horror they'd just escaped.

A faint pulse of energy flickers through the air.

"Feel that?" Emma pants. And Regina does, yes, but she's more concerned with the way some of Emma's cuts seem to be growing. The way blood is flowing more freely, how it soaks through the remnants of her tattered shirt. The way she can't seem to move in a straight line.

"Gold made a run for it. Left us behind, the bastard." She grits her teeth and her grip on Regina's wrist tightens. "They musta put up a helluva fight. Don't stop. Whatever you do. Almost there," she chants. "Almost through."

And then they are there. At the barrier. Regina knows it. She knows it because Emma raises a hand and passes through, and Regina? Regina doesn't.

Regina gets left behind.


	9. Chapter 9

On the other side of the invisible wall made from magic and malice, Emma's reaction is instantaneous. She whirls around on her heels, limp, blonde locks fanning out around her like a halo, and sets about bashing on the barrier. Her hands glow with bright magic as she pounds and pounds and pounds on the barricade, but the light around her tight fists is weak. It flickers and stutters and isn't breaking through much of anything anytime soon.

She can't hear, but Regina can see. Emma calls for her. Her mouth twisted in urgent anguish as it forms Regina's name over and over. She beats, and she calls. Beats and calls and beats and calls and beats and calls.

And that's what Regina does her best to focus on when she feels her sister's fingers curl around her arms from behind. Even if she's alone. Even if this is when she dies at the hands of those who should love her most. Somebody, at least one person, cares enough to stop, and turn, and beat, and call. And that won't save her, no, but if she closes her eyes it might be enough.

At least the sun is starting to rise. The sky will be bright soon. The birds will start singing. Maybe Regina will get to see it.

She hisses in pain as Zelena's grip presses over her fresh wounds. "This is getting ridiculous," her sister growls. "Mother."

"Calm yourself." Mother is there too, then. Mother is going to watch. "Go after her."

"You know what happens if I wander too far. I have to stay close." Zelena's nails dig into Regina's burns. She probably doesn't notice, even as Regina whimpers and twists in her tight grip. "We're finished."

 _Thud._

Emma's throwing her shoulder into the barrier now. Again and again. Eyes hard, mouth set. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ And with each pass she slides lower down the magic wall, legs weak and trembling. The hits come less frequently, less powerful, and she's swaying and her gaze is unfocused and any moment now she's going to collapse.

"Not like this," Mother hisses. "Away with you. Stay out of sight." She waves her hand through the air and the pressure on Regina's arms is gone.

Regina spins around to find her sister vanished, only a hazy purple smoke left where she once stood. Mother's eyes are now fixed on her and Regina snaps her own shut when those elegant fingers curl through the air once more. She awaits pain, but there's no force or malice imbued in the magic that coils around her body. It's gentle and soft, so unlike the magic she's felt before, and when she chances a peek, she finds everything unchanged save for the clothes on her back.

Satin pajamas replaced by one of the many tailored suits that Zelena had showed her lined her closet within the house. Regina meets her mother's gaze, and before she can move to defend herself the woman pounces, hands on Regina's face, tips of her fingers hard on her daughter's temples.

"Sleep," she commands, voice the smoothest silk.

And that's when everything goes black.

* * *

Nothing is familiar and everything hurts. Her head, her limbs, her-

"Regina?"

"Mother?"

Regina pushes herself up on her elbows and squints into the growing light of dawn at the silhouette of her mother, hovering over her. When her eyes adjust and Regina manages to sit up fully, she finds the woman's features twisted in deep concern.

"Wha-"

"Oh," she coos, "my darling." And something about this feels horribly familiar but Regina's head is pounding and her thoughts are all muddled and the last thing she remembers-

Regina gasps and her fingers twist into the grass beneath her. "Henry," she breathes. "Where is-?"

"We had to flee, darling." Mother's hand runs along the curve of Regina's cheek.

She bites the inside of her lip and does her best not to flinch away from the touch. Odd. She'd trained herself out of that weak, frightened response long ago.

"You were injured during the fight. Do you remember?"

Regina shakes her head. She remembers Snow and David. Emma and Neal. Gold hiding in the back of the pawn shop behind his collected human shields, lined up like chess pieces to do his bidding. Anger courses through her at the memory of Emma, so sanctimonious, pleading with her to stop after everything she herself had started. None of this would have started if the damn Savior had just pulled her head out of her ass and took Regina at her word about Archie's death.

"I had to retreat when you went down. The Savior's magic is strong and unpredictable. You weren't prepared." Mother moves her hand along Regina's skin, brushes the hair from her face with a tenderness rarely expressed.

Regina fights a frown at the foreign touch. She blames the instinctual reaction on the news that Emma had bested her in a feat of magic.

"How do you feel now?" Her eyes are soft and searching and Regina offers a small smile.

"I'm fine." She pushes herself up onto her feet, ignoring the hand Mother offers in support. "I just feel a little-"

 _Thud._

Regina's eyes widen and she jerks at the sound.

"She found us," Mother growls, words frigid and clipped. "I put up a barrier to buy you some time to recover, but it might not hold long. Her parents can't be far behind. I can handle them easily enough with Rumpelstiltskin out of commission. Can you take care of _her_ , my love?"

Regina watches Miss Swan, the fabled hero, the predestined Savior, as she savagely beats against Mother's protective barrier in an animalistic effort to destroy what little is left of Regina's family, and no, that just won't do.

"Of course, Mother."

It's time to finish this once and for all.


	10. Chapter 10

Emma Swan, insufferable, unintelligible, unfathomable, idiot that she is, actually, dare Regina say, _lights up_ when she passes through the barrier to face her.

"Regina," she whispers, all relief and sagging shoulders, and she only seems to betray any sort of alarm the second violet magic sparks between Regina's fingertips. The second her eyes rake over Regina's body and inspect her clothes, her stance, her quiet, building wrath. And the next time she whispers, "Regina," her eyes are wide and she takes one, then two steps back on unsteady feet.

"This ends here and now, Swan," Regina hisses as fire flares to life in her palm.

Emma blinks, then mutters a weak, "Shit." And before Regina can react, the woman turns and flees, sprinting as fast as her rickety legs will take her. She can't help but watch, stunned, as her supposed greatest enemy hobbles down Mifflin street and stumbles gracelessly towards the forest.

Well then.

An odd tactic for someone who had just chased two powerful witches down looking for a fight. Strange too, that for all of Emma Swan's faults and wrongdoings, Regina has never taken her for a coward of this sort. If anything, she's always seemed too brash and stubborn to know when to back down. A trait some might claim they shared.

Not Regina. Other people.

It could be a trap, leading Regina on a merry chase, though Emma isn't the type. Her parents on the other hand…With the resolve to keep her eyes open and her wits about her, Regina takes off after her fleeing prey.

The hunt is on.

* * *

Emma has always been far beneath her. New, untrained light magic against the years Regina spent honing her own craft? There was never any question who will come out the victor in this altercation, but god, the woman could put up a semblance of a fight.

She's running - no - scrambling through the undergrowth of Storybrooke's vast woodlands. Regina follows, in a sort of trance as Emma bobs and weaves through the forest. Partly evasion techniques as Regina bares down on her, flinging white hot fire, sure, but maybe also a little because she has to. Maybe she can't quite walk straight.

Emma dives and rolls behind the thick trunk of a red pine, a flash of fire just nipping her heels. Gripping the bark, she hauls herself up and wriggles away to keep out of Regina's line of vision. It's almost comical how she thinks wood will be an effective shield. Regina almost pities the poor thing.

"Regina, stop," she shouts, weak and sniveling, pleading desperately for her life now that she's lost the upper hand. Typical. It's spineless. Pathetic.

It's not right.

She doesn't want to win this way. Emma shouldn't lose this way. Not after everything. It's wrong.

"Stand up," she snarls. "Show yourself. Fight back."

"Stop," Emma cries again. "I'm not gonna fight you, Regina. Look at yourself."

How trite. 'You don't want to do this' and 'Oh, how can you be this way?' She's heard it so many times before. It's classic Snow White.

"This isn't a game, Swan," she calls out into the surrounding trees, though her gaze never wavers from where she knows Emma lurks. "There are no time outs."

"Christ, woman." The gall. Honestly. "I don't mean metaphorically. I mean literally look at yourself."

Regina hesitates. What on Earth is she going on about now?

"Your clothes, Regina," she pleads, instead of defending herself in any way. "Your hair. Feel how long your hair is."

Flames extinguished, Regina wordlessly brings her hand up to run through her hair. Her long hair. Her hair that fell a bit past her shoulders.

"What are you wearing? Whatever day you think it is, is that what you put on this morning, Regina?"

It's fuzzy. She can't quite remember. But she looks down anyways and takes in her outfit and wonders if maybe…

"Come on. You're smarter than this," Emma whines from yards away, hidden behind her tree. "You're so much smarter than this."

Smarter than what, exactly?

"She's using you, Regina," Emma shouts. "Again. Just like always. Whatever she's told you is a lie. You know she's using you."

Regina's hands curl into fists. Her nails dig into her palms as Emma stands there shouting like she has _any right_.

"And what makes you so different?" She seethes, spitting poison. Her hands begin to heat and she raises them, coaxing her fire back to life, both in and outside her body. "Turn my son against me? Whisk him away to New York to find his-" She grits her teeth, "his-" and she can't bring herself to say the word father because Henry doesn't need one. Doesn't need another parent. He has Regina. And Regina should be enough. _Could_ be enough if they just let her.

Why isn't she enough?

Instead of dwelling on the potential answers she flings her fire, let's it hurtle towards Emma's tree with no restraint and the Savior is sent scampering once more, tail between her legs.

Regina's growing tired of this game. It's time to end it. She chases after Emma without pause, intent on finishing what she's started. Henry might never forgive her for it, but the Savior has done nothing but destroy their life together. She has to do this, for both of them.

That's what she tells herself as Emma guides her past trees and shrubs, through tangled vines and piercing thorns. She trips and stumbles and falls and Regina follows with far less difficulty, burning everything in her path. She gains on her in no time at all, at her back in mere moments, reaches for the collar of Emma's tattered shirt while wearing the wide, tight smile of one with victory in their grasp. There's no escape.

Except then Emma darts to the left.

She darts to the left and spins around on her heels and wraps her arms around Regina's waist, and Regina staggers back because she's been in more skirmishes than she can count and surely this is the oddest way one has ever turned out. At least, that's how she feels for a moment, because she always was a clever woman and soon she knows Emma's plan.

A trap indeed, and a lesson to always trust one's first instincts. Emma's lead her to the town line. And Regina, limbs weak and sluggish from her overzealous use of magic, can't put up much of a fight as Emma throws her whole weight into the task of tackling Regina like a footballer from one patch of mossy, forest ground to another, just a foot or so away.

Regina, eyes wide, lies shocked on the ground in the Savior's tight grip as her mind whirs and tumbles about in her skull, trying to make sense of a dozen and one things at the very same time. Her breathing is labored, it comes short and fast while she tries to process, and there's a pain in her back as nausea runs through her. Chest full, tight, and brow furrowed, she groans.

That's when Regina starts experiencing the early stages of a heart attack.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Yo, just pretend they went to Camelot and Merlin helped Emma and all that jazz and then they came back and Zelena had the baby because holy shit I'm not dignifying 5a by acknowledging it here. Hook...probably went to die in a hole or something i don't know. Feel free to use your imagination.

* * *

It's hard to focus while she's dying. Hard to feel. But there's a piece of Regina, while she's shaking and convulsing, that can sense arms around her chest, tugging, dragging, pulling. Over leaves and dirt and twigs and stone.

"I gotchu," a murmured voice, soft and shaking, horribly weak, first far and then closer, near her ear, words sighed into her skin, "You're okay. I have you. You're okay. You're fine."

And her heartless body relaxes wrapped in the hold, as it's dragged back into the safety of Storybrooke's magic. muscles loosen, breathing slows, and memories begin to settle. For a time they're fragmented. Little bits and pieces that dance and swirl and can't quite figure out how to reinsert themselves into the delicate fragility of her brain.

Then the arms around her shift, tighten, and her whole body sings _Emma_ like it's just remembered and everything slams into her at once. It all comes in an uncontrollable a rush, forgotten and remembered alike. She's holding Daniel's corpse in her arms, and then Leopold's blood is stained on her hands, and then the crumbled ashes of Daddy's heart are sifting through her fingers, and then the curse is cast with malice and hatred, and the taste of success is on her tongue, and then Henry wriggles between her palms, and then Emma - Oh, _Emma_.

Emma who had barged into her office on a Tuesday afternoon wielding a takeout container full of salad in front of her like a shield, and requested an impromptu lunch meeting so pitifully that Regina didn't have the heart to deny her. And oh, she hadn't even eaten, hadn't even _brought_ anything for herself to eat, she just sat in the chair on the other side of Regina's desk shifting and fidgeting and saying half-sentences like "I know that pixie dust is super important or whatever," and, "Like, it's probably stupid but, you know, I think - maybe," and, "I just don't get why after he does it twice that-"

And Regina had been forced to pull off her glasses and fix Emma with a hard, concerned glare until her Sheriff finally burst "So what? You're gonna, like, marry the dude _?"_ And Regina hadn't known how to answer because they'd been back from Camelot for weeks since Merlin had helped Emma return to her old self and things were quiet for once and, well, Robin had seemed to think it was the logical next step, even if marriage had never gone well for Regina. Even if she wasn't really so sure.

"I don't know," she had said, deciding on the truth when Emma wouldn't drop the subject, and she really didn't, not until later. Much later. When Emma had her propped up on the desk, skirt hiked up around her thighs, quivering and rolling into her hand. That was when Regina decidedly knew that, no, she wasn't gonna, like, marry the dude.

"I _never_ knew-" she breathlessly declared.

And Emma, beautiful Emma, had laughed against her neck and murmured, "How many dark curses does a girl have to absorb?" against her skin like that settled everything.

It kind of did.

"Regina?"

Regina looks up to find Emma hovering over her, concern and hope mingling on her face. A prayer is etched into her features, a wish that the pass over the line has erased Cora's spells. That Regina is back. _Her_ Regina.

She looks so anxious, so eager behind the grime and abuse marring her skin, Regina can't help but reach out and grip what's left of her shirt to tug her down close and press their lips together. It's earnest, and far too sloppy for her liking, but the image of Emma dangling in her basement keeps bombarding Regina and this is all she can do at the moment. All she can express. The only way she can express it.

At least Emma doesn't seem to mind. She leans into the contact, eager to please as ever, and smiles against Regina's lips.

"Hi," she mutters, when Regina finally releases her.

"Hi," Regina returns.

And Emma says, "Hi," again. Whispers the word like she can't believe she has the chance, and then she leans downs, presses her forehead against Regina's. "I missed you."

"I knew you as soon as I saw you," Regina breathes. "Right away, I knew. My body remembered you."

Of course, Emma grins at that. Smirks, more like. Beneath the pain and horror brought on by the event, she's positively delighted as she says, "Kinky," with waggling eyebrows.

"Not like that," Regina chides, tone hard and eyes rolling until Emma chuckles and pulls her in for a searing kiss that's hot and urgent and leaves her giddily sighing "Maybe a _little_ like that," when they break apart because maybe she still sort of feels seventeen.

It's a reluctant movement, but Regina pulls away to support herself on the ground and give Emma some much needed rest. Maybe it's the doe-eyed teenager that's still so close to Regina's surface, but she's acutely aware of every flinch and twitch, every pain Emma tries to pretend isn't affecting her, and it's making her chest tight.

Always the hero, that one. Such a fool.

They sit together in the forest, Regina leans back on her hands, hot and tired, cooling down from her excessive magic use, and Emma sits cross-legged, hunched over and wincing with each heavy breath, shivering slightly in the morning chill. Poor, brave Emma.

The chunky leather wrapped around the pale skin of her forearm sticks out boldly, and Regina can't keep her eyes off it. It's easier to look there, afterall, than anywhere else on Emma's mangled body.

All Regina's fault, just like always.

She swallows. "You overpowered the charm embedded in the braclet. How?"

"You remember all that?" At Regina's answering nod, Emma looks down at her own scarred palms. "I don't know. I didn't plan it. I just-" she flexes her fingers, "I just wanted to get to you. I wanted to stop them."

Regina shifts, hums.

"What?" Emma looks up, tries to play it cool, but Regina can see the fear in her gaze. It's been there, lingering, since the days of the Dark Swan. Emma, always so ready to believe now that magic - her magic - is laced with malice. That she can go wrong at any time, go dark, go bad.

"It's just incredible," she soothes. "Your power is incredible." It's not a lie, but maybe she's laying it on a little thick. Emma's features soften and relax though so she must be doing this right. "I think there's far more to your magic than I can comprehend. It's remarkable, really."

"Wow." Emma lets out a laugh. It's stronger than anything she's managed in awhile. "You were just super nice to me for a lot of sentences in a row."

Regina scoffs but doesn't defend herself beyond rolling her eyes. She feels calmer. More steady, more sure. More like herself. "Let me," she murmurs, tries not to falter, tries not to betray her own despair, "let me patch you up."

"I can do it. I have my magic back," Emma says, even as she lets Regina reach out and remove the cuff at her wrist.

"Emma," Regina breathes while she tosses the wretched thing, once intended to trap her sister, then twisted her imprison her Savior. She'd been coming to rescue her, Emma had said. Regina narrows her gaze and refuses to cry. "I don't even know how you're still conscious."

"Adrenaline?" Emma's less than concerned. Too foolish to look after herself. Too idiotically loyal to leave Regina to her own problems.

"All I mean is that the last thing you should be doing right now is overextending yourself by using magic."

Bottom lip protruding ever so slightly, Emma huffs and turns away as Regina's fingers, warm and glowing, run over her skin. "Neither should you."

"I haven't used magic in days," Regina chides. "I haven't been able to." She works on anything that's bleeding first, speeding the healing process along, urging the cells of the body to life, forcing them to stitch and heal and seal.

Already, Emma's laugh sounds stronger. "You literally just spent the last fifteen minutes as a human flamethrower."

"I meant before then." When nothing is actively spilling blood Regina moves to the limbs that must surely be aching. "You're exhausted and you've spent the last two weeks-" She falters, shakes her head, swallows.

Emma had been strung up, left dangling, then forced to coax unused muscles to life without much warning or preparation. Regina works her magic deep over Emma's legs and arms, stitching and knitting and soothing, and all fight leaves Emma as she sighs and leans into her companion, at last relaxed.

"All right," she moans her pleasure, "patch me up, lady. But only where necessary." She does her best to pin Regina with a stern glare, but it's lazy and half lidded. "You need your strength. We could get ambushed at an time."

Fingers skate all about, but Regina lingers at the other woman's wrists for a time, holds them gently and runs her thumb over the dark purple bruising there until it fades into an ugly shade of yellow.

"Zelena's trapped herself, and she knows it. We were her last resort after being pinned down. She's lost her attack dog now that you've freed Gold, and Mother is weak." Regina speaks to herself as well as Emma, tries to work out her family's next move as she heals her companion. "I only saw her perform magic a handful of times while we were captive there. Did you ever?"

Emma shakes her head. "No."

"Good. I'd be willing to bet she can't do much. Not in this half-form. I think beyond her physical strength, which we know we can overpower, she can't do much else. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Zelena ran off and left her to, well, rot, as it were."

"No. She's obsessed with your mother. She'd never desert her."

"If it's between my mother's wandering spirit and her own life?" Regina lets out a bitter laugh. "She would have offered herself as sacrifice once I proved too much trouble if she were so desperate to serve. It's Zelena versus us now. We'll meet with your parents and break down that barrier. Then we'll find out just how devoted a daughter she is."

"You really think she'll run, huh?" Emma hums in thought. "What happens to Cora then? Does she just vanish? Gold said she couldn't go past the barrier. So if Zelena leaves does her magic stop keeping Cora here?"

Regina bites her lip. "I don't know."

"Huh. Well, I guess if she tries to run like you think, we'll find out."

"Indeed." Reinga lets her hands wander to Emma's scars next, but the woman leans back, pulls away.

"Leave those," Emma says. "As long as I can walk and fight, you can take care of the rest later. It probably looks worse than it is anyhow. I need a shower and you'll see, it won't be so bad."

"Emma, you're-," Regina grieves, voice tight, "you're covered-"

"It's fine," she insists. "Save your strength for now." Her hand curls around Regina's and squeezes tight. "We're not done yet. First, let's make sure we can keep everyone safe."

Regina huffs and her eyes wander. Lost in her own perceived uselessness. "At the very least you must be starving."

"They actually fed me well enough," Emma admits with a half hearted shrug. "Didn't want me dying on them." She grins at Regina. "I'd never say no if you wanted to treat me to a burger after though."

Regina forces herself to smile in return. "That depends on your behavior." Her lips quickly fall into a frown as her eyes comb over Emma's chest. Some wounds she can let slide, but others- "Let me at least," she tries, making for the ugly marks.

"Leave it, Regina," Emma insists. "We can play doctor later. Besides, maybe I'll keep some of these bad boys permanently. Knights are always gettin' nicked up and bruised. Fightin' for the honor of their queen and all that." She waggles her eyebrows like an imbecile.

"You're insufferable."

Emma positively beams. "So i've heard."

Regina shakes her head and trails her fingers along Emma's chest. "My-" and she tries not to dwell on the fact that the steady beat she can feel drum beneath the other woman's chest is not Emma's life force, but her own.

Again, Emma covers Regina's hand with her own, stilling the movement. "Let me hold onto it for now." She leans forward. "Safe keeping."

Regina meets her halfway, presses their heads together so their breath mingles when she asks, "Where is yours?"

"Let's wait on that until everything is wrapped up, huh? Just in case."

Their laughter is quiet and melds between them. "Good idea." Regina tilts her head, presses their lips together one last time before shifting back, all business. "Does anywhere else hurt?"

Emma opens her mouth, ready to deny, clearly, but Regina knows that trick by now, has played the 'i'm fine' cared too many times herself to fall for it. She levels Emma with a glare until the woman's lips pull into a grimace.

"Wouldn't say no if you took another pass at my left calf," Emma admits after a moment, all sheepish shifting and avoidance as though hurting is anything worth being ashamed of. "It's kinda throbbing still. Just a little."

Regina frowns, still unconvinced. "And?" she presses.

Emma sighs, eyes on the ground. "The right one."

"And?"

"Both arms."


	12. Chapter 12

It's funny because, weeks ago, when all of this started, they'd been walking just like this, hand in hand down the center of Main, on the way towards the home of Snow White.

Of course there were plenty of differences between occasions. Emma hadn't been slumping against her back then, for one. She hadn't been battered and bruised and slung over Regina, using her body like a crutch. A third leg.

No, Emma had been leading the charge. She had Regina's hand firmly locked in her own and had been pulling, tugging, _dragging_ Regina towards the loft because, in her words, 'chill out, stop being so nervous, Mom totally likes you better than me anyways' and how could she really argue when Snow White's eyes got so large and round and adoring whenever she stepped into a room these days?

True as they may be, Emma's assurances hadn't calmed her nerves much of any. Regina wasn't, would _never_ be, afraid of the Charmings, no, but one could hardly blame her for feeling slightly uneasy while on her way to inform a woman who had once called her _mother -_ as fleeting and meaningless as the title had been in the grand scheme of their lives - that she was now, in fact, defiling her daughter on a regular basis.

After the horrendously awkward and morbidly embarrassing event that had been blindsiding Robin with the news, letting Snow and David in on their little (life changing) affair shouldn't be much of anything, Emma had told her. And Regina could agree to that to some extent, but that didn't stop her from being almost grateful to be interrupted on their way over by the call that her sister had escaped her imprisonment and was on the loose.

What followed after was a whirlwind of rapid fire events which involved Gold's dagger being stolen, Emma taking possession of her heart, and the ambush that lead to the very imprisonment they had just escaped. And now they walk that same path with an entirely different purpose, to gather up Snow and David and whomever else will follow them in a final push to defeat what is left of Regina's family once and for all.

"Oh, Emma," Snow all but sobs when they enter the loft.

Armed with bow and arrows, eyes rimmed red, she darts from the kitchen to suffocate her daughter in a tight embrace. Regina takes an instinctive step back when the woman eyes her over Emma's shoulder, firm in her efforts to stay out of hugging-distance.

"We were so worried when you didn't return."

"Better late than never," the Savior jokes, tense and awkward in the arms of her mother. And because she's so utterly Emma, always so ready to tear herself down and belittle her worth, she chuckles and shrugs and says, "Come on, it's me. You had to know i'd screw it up somehow before I got the job done," like she hasn't just given so much of herself to protect everything Regina has left.

Snow frowns and holds her by the shoulders at arm's length while David moves into the room to hover behind her. Pure, venomous hatred flashes in his usually kind eyes as he takes in his child. It's for the briefest of moments, and Regina is sure she is the only one that notices. His gaze flickers over his daughter, soaking in every wound, and Regina finds herself cradling her own stomach with trembling arms because she stands just behind his precious girl, neat and clean and in a pressed suit, and how is she supposed to feel anything but despicable?

Eventually David plants a firm smile on his lips, ever the family man, and leans forward to press a sweet kiss to Emma's temple. "It's good to have you back," he whispers into the tangled mess of her hair.

Emma ducks her head and fights a smile and murmurs, "sure," and Regina tries not to notice the way David's anger has collected itself in his hand, where he has an iron grip on the sword belted at his hip.

"We tried so many times with Blue to break through but we couldn't-" Snow whispers desperately, but Emma cuts her off with a shake of the head.

"It's fine. It doesn't matter." And they all know that she means it, that she really believes it, but it's so utterly not true and Regina knows her face is just as pained as David's and Snow's while they all fight to keep from protesting and simply listen to their hero. "Gold is free. It's just Zelena now, and Cora. If we work together, we can take em'."

"Cora?" Snow's face is ash and horror and for once Regina can't bring herself to scowl at the woman's dramatics.

""Long story," Emma returns. "For now just know they're both there and they're trouble and we need to take care of them."

A nod from David, and a soft stroke of the cheek from Snow. "Of course."

"Henry?" Regina presses from just within the doorway, unable to wait any longer.

"The community center," David replies. "Everyone was ordered there as soon as you and Emma went dark. We've got fairies and the dwarfs on protection."

"Surely not the entirety of the town-"

"Belle offered up the library too," Snow adds, and then she blushes, frowns, "and we've been using town hall as well, to keep everyone together." She won't look at Regina, but there's a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "You may want to do a thorough office cleaning when all is said and done."

Emma laughs and says, "That's fine, she was probably gonna do one soon anyhow." And thank god David and Snow look wildly confused rather than disgruntled or knowing because Regina really doesn't need to have a heart attack so soon after her almost-experience mere minutes ago.

"Yes, well," she manages after a cough, gaining everyone's undivided attention at her stern tone, "I hardly think it's in our best interest to give my sister time to regroup." And her cheeks definitely don't darken when Emma winks at her over Snow's shoulder. "We'll finish this now. Today will be the end of it."

It's almost endearing how gung-ho David is, armed and full of anxious energy, ready to see the villains of the week brought to justice. He marches out the door first, and Snow sets to follow, though she pauses to lay a gentle hand on Regina's arm. She squeezes with a soft smile, and Regina grits her teeth because the stupid, foolish thing doesn't know her fingers brush the bottom of Regina's burns.

"I'm glad you're safe," she says, and her eyes are so soft and her tone is so earnest it makes Regina's skin crawl. She almost blurts, "and I fucked your daughter," just to ruin the moment, but Emma probably wouldn't approve, so she merely rolls her eyes and scowls before she pulls out of the touch.

Snow shakes her head with a sort of fond exasperation that stands Regina's hair on end, and then it's just the two of them, Regina and Emma, left in the Charming's apartment.

"You should stay," Regina murmurs towards the ground. "We can handle this without you."

In her peripheral, Emma shifts side to side, one foot to the other. "I won't pretend I'm not ready for a nap," she chuckles. Regina swallows and refuses to offer her so much as a glance. "But you're not getting rid of me yet. We're doing this together."

"Emma," Regina sighs, "you've done _enough_." And she hopes she's said it right. Hopes Emma can understand that enough is everything, because that's what she's done. Everything.

Of course, Emma just goes and ignores her because heaven forbid she ever listens to a word that comes out of Regina's mouth. She steps closer and wraps her arms around Regina's waist and says, "are you gonna be okay?" as though Regina hasn't just spent close to two weeks in her pajamas drinking tea and talking about horseback riding.

"How do your arms feel?" she presses and when Regina turns to outright laugh in her face Emma's chapped lips pull into a frown, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I can try and heal-"

"You're a idiot," Regina chides and swallows the end of Emma's sentence with a kiss because the angry red blotches hidden beneath her jacket are mere splotches of paint and Zelena had gone and used Emma's entire body as her fucking canvas.

"Sorry," Emma murmurs. She looks confused, but content, and that will have to do for now, because they have a battle to finish fighting.

Regina lets their fingers tangle together and tugs Emma towards the door. "Come if you must," she allows, and Emma follows willingly and without hesitation, just as she always has, Regina knows, now that's she's stopped and taken the time to notice it.


	13. Chapter 13

The barrier is down and the house is empty, they all know it is, even as they meticulously search every room just to be sure. Regina only bars them from snooping through the basement. She's not ready yet. Judging by the way Emma lingers in the hall and keeps her eyes on anything but the door, she isn't quite ready either.

And they would be, the four of them, at a loss, except Snow gets a call on her cellphone from Red saying that Zelena's on top of the clock tower shouting for her daughter. They message Robin, tell him to keep his new baby close and wrapped up tight, and then they set off together back towards Main, which feels right, Regina thinks, because that seems to be where everything happens.

Snow and David take point, ready to avenge their child's suffering, and Emma marches right by Regina's side, strong and sure, as though she hasn't been limping all day.

"Looks like she ditched Cora after all," Emma says when they reach the foot of the clock tower and find Zelena high on the roof, wicked smirk on her lips, hair tossing this way and that in the wind. Her shoulders are hunched and her breathing seems labored.

Regina squints into the bright sun as she takes in the form of her sister. The ragged form. The sluggish, hulking sort of form. She's panting and sort of mumbling to herself and if Regina could get closer she thinks she might find the woman's usually piercing gaze unfocused and lazy and red hued.

No, not Zelena. Because this is an abomination high above them and that makes complete and total sense, for hasn't Regina learned the hard way that the dead are never meant to rise again?

"Mother," she breathes.

"What?" Emma's head snaps to Regina. "What did you say?"

"She was calling for me."

"Regina," Zelena's voice rings out, pure poison.

It's all a bit of a blur. The monster, the hybrid that is somehow both mother and sister (and good god, everything she has left), lunges down at them like some sort of animal. They break apart and scamper for safety, Snow and Regina darting for the cover of a nearby truck while David and Emma dive into an alley to tuck themselves behind the dumpster there.

Zelena, or rather, Cora, seems disoriented and confused and fueled only by rage as she stomps about the street and Regina supposes that's what comes of stuffing one's immortal soul into the body of another.

Gold appears at Regina's side in a puff of smoke and the teenager that still lingers in the forefront of Regina's mind, that still feels so close to the surface, wants to wrap her fingers around his neck for everything he both did and didn't do while they were trapped together in her own home. Snow sneers at his arrival, which is enough for the moment.

"The vessel is supposed to be willing," Gold says. "They would have had you placated after tampering with your mind. Zelena, was not."

And it seems so very obvious as they peer over the top of the truck, because Zelena's body is near writhing on the street, twisting back and forth and howling with rage as she reaches up desperate hands to claw at her own face.

"They're at war with themselves within the body."

The body. As if Zelena had always been an empty vessel. As if she'd never had a life - thoughts, hopes, dreams - of her own and had always existed merely to be filled. Regina closes her eyes and clenches her fists and refuses to turn on him. Not now. Not after all the progress she's made. The satisfaction of his body cold and lifeless is not worth the trade off of Henry and Emma.

Not that she could kill him if the whim even took her, the immortal rat.

"We have nothing to fear here. Not anymore."

And that's how it ends. Sad and pathetic.

They all stand, one by one come out of hiding and join together in the center of the street, as Zelena and Cora, mother and daughter, tear themselves apart within the same body.

That body.

It beats itself. Claws at itself. Alights with magic and burns itself. And it's everything Regina had wanted to do to them both in retaliation, but as it happens she finds herself unable to watch. She closes her eyes and swallows and presses her forehead into Emma's shoulder with a sigh.

"Regina," the body calls, a gargled, guttural, strangled sound, and it staggers towards the group, reaches for them, before collapsing in an unsustainable heap on the cement. It might be Cora ordering her allegiance or it might be Zelena pleading for her help but Regina doesn't fight to make the distinction.

She takes a deep breath and raises her hand, curls her fingers in the air and turns her sister's neck until her chin rests upon her back to put the wretched thing out of it's misery.

It ends with a whimper - a snap - not a bang. And it's pathetic. So, so pathetic.

She's ashamed by how much it hurts, even as Emma's arms curl around her her middle from behind.

Dirtied, bloodied fingers graze her cheeks to wipe away the tears she hadn't realized she's allowed to escape. Emma's lips are on her neck and "Love you," is whispered into her skin so only she can hear, and she nods and leans back into the touch, even while Snow and David's heavy gazes rake over them.

It's David who eventually takes charge. Calls for Zelena's mangled body to be taken. Regina waits and watches from Emma's embrace, ignores Snow's curious, tight-lipped stare and wonders if this is, at last, the final piece of her past that she'll have to bury. Re-bury. Whatever.

At this point, she's just tired.

* * *

They end up at the loft, Snow, David, Emma, and Regina. Gold had disappeared as soon as Zelena was taken away. Regina thinks she might put a guard on the body until it's in the ground, she didn't like the way his lips had quirked up at the corners as he left.

Ruby is on her way over with Henry in tow. David sits at the kitchen table, head in hands, Emma refuses to leave Regina's side, and Snow is deep in her closet, shuffling about. She returns in moments, a dark, wooden chest in hand.

"Here," she says, and holds it out towards Emma, then she frowns and shifts, juts it in Regina's direction instead. "Or, it's yours, I guess. Sorry."

Regina furrows her brow in confusion and Emma steps forward to claim the box. "Actually," she says as she places it gently on the table in front of David, "that one's mine."

A deep breath, and then Emma presses a glowing hand to her chest, pushes it in past her tattered clothes and bruised skin and weary bones with a grunt to withdraw Regina's heart. It's a shriveled, charred, ugly thing that emerges, and Emma cups it tenderly in her palms, holds it close like the most priceless, precious gem.

"This one's Regina's," she murmurs, and she shuffles it over to Regina with such care, features so earnest, Regina can't help but lean forward as Emma returns the pulsating organ to her chest.

They're kissing, and then Emma's hand is inside her and her heart is exactly where it's meant to be, and then they're _kissing_ because it's so, so, _so_ much more. Everything feels better and worse and _more_ and she's sobbing as Emma cradles her close and whispers, "I know," over and over past her lips.

And she'll hate herself for it later, how she lets David watch with wide, confused eyes and how she doesn't retaliate when Snow squeaks out a strangled, "oh," of alarm, but for now everything is just _too much_ for her to worry about being self conscious. Too much for her image to be a concern.

She shakes and shudders in Emma's grasp and tries to calm the flood of emotions that exploded with the return of her heart. Emma guides her in a handful of deep, steady breaths, and keeps whispering soothingly until Regina is able to pull away a straighten herself out.

Adamant to ignore Snow and David, who seem to have no concept of giving others personal space in such intimate moments apparently, Regina nods when Emma quietly murmurs, "You okay?"

Head held high in front of her audience, Regina wipes at her cheeks in a disturbingly casual motion and moves towards the table. David leans back in his chair at her approach as though she's a bomb that could detonate at any second. Maybe she is.

In a smooth motion she flicks open the heavy lid of the chest. Tucked inside, Emma's heart sits. It beats, slow and sure and steady, and glows a brilliant light, never wavering. Regina cups it in her hand and turns to find Emma smiling softly at her.

Three steps, and then she's in the other woman's arms once more. Emma's hands come up to rest at her waist and Regina smirks as she pushes the glowing heart against her chest. A deep inhale, and then Emma sort of deflates, relaxes as Regina withdraws her hand.

It's not nearly as extreme a reaction. Emma merely stills for a time and then her lips stretch into a goofy sort of smile before she leans down to plant them on Regina's once more. It's as though she'd never been missing her heart in the first place, Regina muses, as she returns the kiss with fervor, a one time allowance in front of the Charmings. And maybe that's how it is for Emma, a being made of and from the purest love.

Maybe, no matter if it's inside her body or out, her heart is always working at it's fullest capacity.

"So, now am I allowed to 'play doctor'?" Regina mocks her earlier words, which earns a snicker from Emma as a red-faced Snow drags her prince away to the other end of the room where they can pretend to be watching out the window for Henry.

For once, Emma is a quiet, respectful patient. She sits at the table and leans back and allows Regina to run fingers thrumming with magic over every dip and curve of her battered skin. She's silent for the most part while Regina works, except for once when she whispers softly so her parents can't hear, "Do you wanna talk about-?"

Eyes focused on the task in front of her, Regina merely shakes her head. "Later," she says, and Emma, bless her, leans back and lets it settle for the time being.

Regina despises herself because in the end, Emma's not back one hundred percent to what she was before. Some wounds ran too deep, some scars too old, and Regina has always been more adept and hurting than healing.

Emma merely grins like a moron and stretches as she stands and says that she doesn't mind having a battle scar or two because she's heard it drives the ladies wild. Regina wants to slap her for it, but presses a kiss to her cheek instead.

Henry stampedes into the loft like a hurricane, a flurry of anxiety and pride and insatiable curiosity. He clings to Regina first. She'd been gone the longest, had supposedly been in the most danger in his eyes. She swallows and returns the embrace and pretends she hasn't just exhausted her power patching Emma back together.

He goes next to Emma and hugs her too, except this one is looser, shorter, and when he pulls away his nose is scrunched up in disgust. "Ma," he says, completely ignorant, "you _really_ need to take a shower."

And it's such an innocent, oblivious thing to say, even Regina ends up adding to the laughter in the apartment.

And so Emma takes her shower, and the days carry on. They have an overdue - now rather pointless - talk with the Charmings, Regina buries her sister as Emma stands at her side, and Henry takes up making exaggerated gagging sounds every time he turns a corner to find his mothers huddled up close.

When the time comes, they get an entirely new home together. One with a room for themselves, and one for Henry, and one more for - just in case, maybe - someone new, perhaps, though they haven't yet dared say the words aloud to one another. It's a modest, simple place with windows Henry's never crawled out of to escape his overbearing mother, and rooms Regina's never cried in when she'd realized, and a basement where Emma's never been tethered and bound.

It's a house that's a home, one that points only towards the future, and everything that follows is hardly a fairytale, but it's usually warm, and most always happy, and definitely, always, without a doubt, safe.


End file.
